


voyeur

by YukinaMika



Series: 2020 [48]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Community: dckinkmeme, Creampie, Degradation, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, F/M, Female Tim Drake, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, zip tie as restraint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukinaMika/pseuds/YukinaMika
Summary: Curiosity kills the cat but satisfaction brings it back.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne
Series: 2020 [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593016
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	voyeur

**Author's Note:**

> For [Kinkmeme.](https://dckinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1454.html?thread=2506414)

It starts innocently, as everything does. It only grows from there.

Tabitha has always been a curious child and such, how could she resist the call to follow the Bat and his little birds. Painstakingly, she collects memoirs, pictures of Batman and his Robins, keeping those in a notebook, locked away under her bed.

And then, suddenly, she is Robin, chirping and hopping behind Batman and calling him Bruce in private. It is an unforeseeable development but one she cannot begrudge.

What she does not expect is the strange feeling she has. Or the weird way her body reacts to every touch.

She does not mean to watch but the showers are communal. It takes absolutely no effort to sneak a little peak of what her mentor packs underneath.

She just wants a tiny peek, just to know what a man looks like down there. She does not expect to see such a huge thing and neither does she expect to see her mentor's hand and the smooth rhythm as it moves up and down.

Her face bright red, she ducks under the shower and slaps her palms over her heated cheeks. She does not miss the tingling feeling just down there.

Later, lying on her bed with her door locked, she slips a hand into her pants. Closing her eyes, she replays the earlier scene, hips trembling as she brings herself off for the first time that night.

It escalates from there. Sneak peeks turns into little audio-less videos recorded by the bugs she plants around the Manor.

Bruce really should have noticed them. But he does not and she is busy with rubbing herself to the thought of him finally figuring out the bugs and who is behind them. She comes at the image of his disgusted sneer and disappointed eyes.

She should stop. She does not.

And before she knows it, it has become a ritual. Every night, she would open the encrypted file that contains hundreds of videos of Bruce, either masturbating or locked in a passionate embrace with someone she does not care to remember the name of, and she would rub herself, headphones plugged in and eyes half-lidded as she lets herself float.

Imagine herself on her knees, tongue lolling out as she lavishes attention to that gorgeous cock. Imagine being bent over and squealing as she is split apart. Imagine herself sliding down and taking that cock to the hilt, lightheaded with pleasure as strong hands hold her hips down and the cock inside thrusts up.

She has toys, vibrators and dildos and just everything her money can buy. Yet most of the time she settles for her hands and fingers to bring herself to completion.

She really should stop. Perhaps delete the file, even.

She does not know if she wants to get caught but the thought makes her all hot and bothered and her traitorous pussy leaks.

* * *

Bruce calls her to his study and she goes. He probably has some questions about some of the cases or one of the W.E reports.

"Bruce," she calls, knocking on the heavy oak door, "I'm here."

His voice is muffled but she hears the "Come in!" through the heavy wood. He sounds a little strange. Must be the onset of a cold.

Opening the door, she slips inside, her laptop clutched to her chest as she closes it and turns the lock, knowing that Bruce likes doing business behind closed and locked doors.

"I'm here," she says, setting the laptop on the desk, "What do you want to talk about?"

Bruce tilts his head, looking very much like an owl that something uneased bubbles in her stomach. It gets worse when he leans back, chin rested on joint hands as he splays out in his seat.

It is like looking at Brucie Wayne, the playboy. Fuck, did she screw up something?

"It has come to my attention-" oh yes, there it is, the disappointed Bruce that is the bane of every Robin, "-that you have been hiding something."

She blinks, an invisible stone dropping in her stomach. Shit, what secret of hers did Bruce find out?

"It's not what you think!" is what slips through her lips while sirens ring in her head.

Bruce raises an eyebrow at her outburst and she feels so small, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Except she does not know what the metaphorical jar is.

"Do you even know what I'm talking about?" Bruce tsks, expression settling into a frown of disappointment.

Worrying her lip, she stares at her laptop, fumbling with her fingers as she thinks back on what Bruce might have found out that upsets him so.

"Tabitha," she freezes, breath hitching when her full name rolls off his tongue so effortlessly, "Come here."

Her mouth is dry when she realizes where Bruce wants her. Her hands are clammy as she tries to will her heart to slow down as she settles in his lap.

It has been ages since she sat in his laps. Back when was no Damian and it was just them two and Alfred in this big house, Bruce would sit her in his laps whenever they were up late together, running analysis and solving cases while she leaned into his chest with eyes half lidded by sleep.

Bruce does not seem to notice that she has gone silent. He reaches for her laptop, opening it and typing in the password because, of course, he knows her password.

She does not know whether her face pales or heats up when Bruce opens the files in a familiar pattern. The one that she goes through almost every night.

"Tabitha," her throat is dry and while she cannot see his face, she can almost imagine it: raised eyebrow and disappointed eyes as he lies the evidence in front of her, "What is this?"

Before her very eyes, before Bruce's, is the collection that she has painstakingly built.

Hundreds videos from surveillance cameras. Thousands of pictures from newspaper and magazines. Everything lies bare on the screen.

"Explain," Bruce's voice is a growl as his arm settles across her stomach, effectively keeping her in one place as his other hand reaches for the touch pad and a video window up, "Why do you have this?"

All the blood seems to rush both southward and upward because she knows her face is bright red and she can also feel the area between her legs getting wet. Traitorous body...

She swallows, ears filled with the sounds of panting and moaning as the Bruce on the screen shudders, driving himself up into a woman who she can barely remember. Her hands stay put on her thighs, balled into fists despite the desire to move, to slip beneath her skirt and just rub away until she is shaking and mewling.

"Well," Bruce demands and she can already hear the glower in his tone, "What do you have to say for yourself."

She closes her eyes and breathes, going over everything she could have said. There is this urge in her stomach to just shift her legs closer for any kind of friction, anything just for a little bit of pleasure to relieve her of this delicious hell.

"I'm sorry," she says at last, "I shouldn't have done that."

She does not open her eyes but instead keeps them close, unable to look at the naked disappointment that is probably showing on Bruce's face. The apology sounds flimsy to her ears and she knows that she would continue rubbing and fucking herself all the while wishing that it is Bruce who holds her down, that it is his cock that pounds into her wet cunt rather than one of her dildos, that it is his fingers that toy with her clit rather than her own clumsy ones.

The silence is deafening and she has to choke back a sob. Why isn't Bruce saying something?!

She gasps when there is a touch of skin against her thigh, far too close to her groin and her eyes fly open only to see Bruce's hand sneaking under her skirt. It rubs against her clit, her panties serving as the last barrier as two fingers trails up and down her slit, carelessly brushing against her clit as they go, sending shivers down her spine while she bites back helpless moans.

"Bruce?" her voice is almost a whisper, quiet and fragile as her body shakes under his soft touch, unknowing whether this is a test or not, hesitant to melt into the pleasure.

There is no reply and Bruce does not even spare her a glance when he opens another video. The fingers on her covered slit stay, brushing up and down almost feather light, too little and too much as they coax breathless gasps from her lips.

She trembles, looking up at her mentor with some kind of aroused confusion. What she gets is the bitter taste of controlled rage on her mentor's face as her panties is nudged to the side and two fingers slipping inside to brush against her bare cunt.

"Does it excite you when I touch you like this," Bruce muses rather than ask, fingers sliding into her soaked heat. Those damned fingers curl and brush against something that punches the air out of her lungs.

She writhes as they pump in and out, scissoring her open and rubbing all over her heated walls yet completely ignore her clit. Her hips buck as Bruce's other hand slips under her blouse, fingers pinching and tugging at her nipple at the same time the fingers inside her bears down on that magical spot.

She chokes on her tongue as her body seizes up, clamping down on Bruce's fingers.

"That's it," Bruce murmurs and his fingers do not stop even as she comes, shaking and gasping in his laps, "Good girl."

The praise rings in her ears still as strong arm hook under her knee. She gives a futile struggle, still feeling too sated and floaty from the earlier orgasm to put up much of a fight and in no time, her legs are thrown over the armrests, her back leaning back into the strong chest. The fingers never leave, pumping in and out, leisurely while she leans back, legs spread and quiet groans spilling out from parted lips.

A soft chuckle reaches her ears and she lets out a wanton moan when the fingers brush against a delightful bundle of nerves. There is a hand under her chin, strong as steel as her head is tilted up.

Bruce is smiling down at her, the corner of his lips quirking up and there is a familiar crinkle at the corner of his eyes. His fingers slip between her lips, gently prying her maw open.

"You look like a whore," Bruce smiles down at her, sharp and almost mean, “But again, whores get paid.”

She is heaving, open-mouthed. Her head is just swimming with confused shame.

The slap between her spread legs jostles her raging nerves and a broken mewl pushes past her lips as pain spread through her lower body while her mind replays the cutting sensation of Bruce's spit in her mouth.

"Wait-" she starts and chokes as fingers, big and wet with her own slick, pin her tongue down.

"You don't talk without permission," Bruce is smiling down at her but his eyes are cold, "After all, this is your punishment."

She swallows back a sob as rough fingers cage her neck. A thumb digs into her artery and a glance at Bruce's face shows a hint amusement as she gasps under his control, heart beating a mile a minute.

"That's a good girl," he purrs, thumb rubbing slowly over the skin of her neck. Each touch is scalding hot like fire is running in her veins.

She pants around his fingers as they caress her tongue. The hand around her throat leaves and she closes her eyes, a shudder running down her spine as it trails downward.

"You didn't think you would be caught, did you," is breathed into her ear as a rough hand cups her pussy, "Once a stalker, always a stalker."

She whimpers as the hand moves, palm grinding into her covered clit. Drool leaks out from her mouth as she sobs around the fingers, acutely aware of the wet patch on the bottom of her panties.

There is a click of the tongue and her cheeks flushes when the hand stops moving. Something like a whimper sounds from her throat when fingers slip inside her panties and then she is bucking in to Bruce's hand as she takes two fingers to the hilt, clit grinding against the calloused palm.

"I saw you," she gasps, eyes flying open only to see Bruce staring down at her, eyes dark and a strange grin on his lips, "Yours aren't the only cameras in this house."

The implication sears her to the bones yet her hips do not stop moving. Shame is bright in her cheeks as she thinks back to the nights where she laid in bed and rubbed away, perfectly content that no one was the wiser.

"You like it," comes the accusation and she cannot do anything but closes her eyes, "You want this."

The nod comes, jerkily and she bites back a whimper at the quiet rumble of laughter.

"Good girl," Bruce praises and suddenly, the fingers in her - in both mouth and cunt - are gone.

She blinks open her eyes, blearily as hands slips under her knees. A question is at the tip of her tongue as Bruce whips out a pocket knife from somewhere and ruins her panties with one cut, leaving it hanging from one thigh while strong hands lift her up and then there is something brushing against her lower region.

Bruce is grinning when she meets his eyes with her wide ones. The question dies in her throat, unformed and voiceless as the length slides in. Her head lolls back, high pitched gasps escape her gaping mouth as those hands bounces her along.

Her breath hitches when there are suddenly fingers pinching her erected clit and she bucks when a rough thrust nearly unseats her, whining when those fingers squeezes her poor clit while she is stretched full around a thick cock.

"Next time," Bruce presses a soft kiss behind her ear, "Come to me."

Her eyes roll back as violent thrusts accompany the gentle whisper. Moans slip past her lips as the fingers on her clit speeds up, toying with the sensitive nub so sweetly that all she is aware of is the stretch of his cock as it drives into her cunt and the fingers rubbing her clit as pleasure floods her whole body.

"It's ok, sweetheart," Bruce is at her ear again, tempting like a devil, "Don't fight against your nature."

"Wha-" she gasps, shaking around the thrusting cock as fingers toy with her clit, "-that- ah- supposed to me- ah-"

The sudden grip on her chin is firm as Bruce tilts her head up. It soon turns into a hand around her neck, thumb digging into the side of her neck as he holds her eyes.

"Sweetie,” the fingers on her clit pinch down and pull and her mouth drops open, hips rolling as her eyes half-lid, “You are a slut."

Dark laughter rings in her ears as she moans, red dusting her cheeks and shame lights up every nerve. And yet her hips keep moving, rolling to the rhythmically in and out of the thrusts.

"Deny it all you want, sweetheart," Bruce leers, gathering her wrists into a strong hand, "Only sluts grind on their pillow with a vibe in their ass."

She whines, giving a half-hearted struggle, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest at the realization.

That was just a week ago. And she timed it perfectly so that no one would be in the house while she edged herself stupid on her pillow while the vibe in her ass kept her stretched open.

"That's right, darling," Bruce laughs, rising to his feet, hand still clamped tight around her wrists as he pins her upper half to the desk, "I saw all of it."

There is a sound of a drawer being open and something winds around her wrists. The grip on the wrists eases but there is a new sensation - a zip tie, keeping her wrists tied together behind her back.

"Don't you worry," Bruce's hand settles between her shoulder, pressing down, "From now on, your little holes will never have to be empty again."

With that, he pounds into her, hips slapping against the back of her thigh and the slick sound of flesh on flesh echoes in the empty room.

She gasps and moans as the thrusts grow erratic, the soaked walls of her inside fluttering desperately around the cock. Her cervix takes the brunt of the thrusts, wringing breathless whines from her throat and Bruce's snarl comes out choked, trailing into a low growl.

"Good slut," is breath out as cum floods her stretched hole, the thrusts slowing down into a maddening grind, “Took it like a champ.”

She whines, hands flexing in their restraint when the soft cock slides out and cum trickles out from her well-fucked cunt.

She is floating in her own head when a hand clamps down on her shoulder. With a jerk, she is hauled up and spun around until she is leaning on the desk, wide eyes and high on pleasure.

Bruce stares at her, not a hair out of place even when his placid cock hangs between his legs. The hand on her shoulder sneaks onto her head and dazedly, she finds herself on her knees while Bruce takes at seat on his chair, pants still undone and his cock is perking up, still glistening with cum from his last orgasm.

Bruce is staring, almost like he is expecting something of her.

Tabitha inches closer on her knees, mouth falling open as she takes his cock down. She squeezes her eyes shut when she feels Bruce’s hand on her head.

“Behave and don’t let your filthy cunt leak on the floor, will you,” Bruce adds almost absently as the sound of typing starts up, “I will make you clean it up with your tongue if I find the floor less than spotless.”

Something wet trails down her thighs and Tabitha flushes, desperately clenching down to stop the leakage. Fuck…

Though the thought of cleaning it up with her tongue under Bruce’s watchful eyes does sound exceptionally good. So good, actually, that she whines around her mouthful of cock.

“Eager, aren’t you,” Bruce’s quiet chuckle echoes in the quiet room, “We are going to have so much fun together.”

**Author's Note:**

> The last month was hell with all the deadlines. I'm so behind on my monthly quota and not to mention that one WIP that only needed to be edited that I lost. Will rewrite it but not right now.
> 
> I haven't written for a month or so. Probably should do some light writing to get back in the mood.


End file.
